


The Parable of the Wrench

by Thimblerig



Series: On the Decks of La Sirena [15]
Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Droid rights, Gen, Philosophy, minor hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29206797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thimblerig/pseuds/Thimblerig
Summary: Elnor nodded again, amiably stoic.Then, as Emil’s entire concentration was focussed on the medical care, he remarked, “Agnes says you need a permit to be real..."
Relationships: Emil|La Sirena's Emergency Medical Hologram & Elnor
Series: On the Decks of La Sirena [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634554
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	The Parable of the Wrench

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arelithil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arelithil/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Importance of Being Elnor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22983115) by [Thimblerig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thimblerig/pseuds/Thimblerig). 



> Written for Arelithil, who lamented a _sad paucity_ of Emil in Picard fandom.

Emil clicked his tongue regretfully, looking down the long, bloody gash that stretched across the swell of Elnor’s primary deltoid muscle and down his arm like bad graffiti on a fine statue.  
  
“A sore wound,” he mused.

“Yes,” said Elnor, “it hurts quite a lot.”

“Hm.” The EMH’s nimble fingers moved gently, easing away cloth crusted to the wound and cleaning and disinfecting it with a small sonic device conjured out of light and air. He pursed his lips. “Deep, but the cut is along the grain of the muscles. It won’t be difficult to fix.”

“Thank you,” said the _qalankhkai._ “Also, I sprained my ankle.”

Emil blinked. “You’re volunteering information about your health?”

“Yes, certainly,” Elnor answered. “There is no merit in hiding pain when someone is trying to fix me.”

_“I could kiss you.”_

Elnor hesitated. “Okay?”

Emil blinked again. Then, putting his tools aside on the spotless white workbench of the brightly lit Sickbay, he leaned in and dropped a brief, chaste kiss on Elnor’s temple. “There’s a good lad.” He picked up his tools again - the regenerator that was set and focussed to go deep into the muscle, a small medical forcefield tractor, to grip the muscle fibres together as they were forced into rapid healing. “This may tickle,” he warned.

Elnor nodded again, amiably stoic.

Then, as Emil’s entire concentration was focussed on the medical care, he remarked, “Agnes says you need a permit to be real.”

The EMH did not look up from his work. “That is one way to describe the Ishigaki Holo-Sentience Accords and the related laws, yes.”

“You’re here,” Elnor said, quiet and definite. “I can hear you; I can feel you; you are healing me. How could a permit make you more or less present?”

“There are sharp limits on how smart a Holographic entity is allowed to get,” Emil explained, frowning at the wound. “How much emotional complexity, how much continuous experience. Permits allow exceptions.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Perhaps it would help to bear in mind that the Federation has laws against the ownership of sentient beings,” Emil answered, “and that I am, first and foremost, a tool.” 

Elnor turned his head to look at Emil sharply.

The EMH did not look up. “I have heard it said, on occasion, that a definition of sentience is the capability of committing evil.” He stopped and adjusted the settings of his hand-tractor and intra-muscular regenerator. “A dog that bites is not evil - it is following its instincts or its training. A tool that causes harm is not evil - it is either broken or it was used badly by another agent.”

Elnor drew in a breath, but held his silence.

“A wrench,” Emil continued, “that can _choose_ to break, or to injure its owner, is not the best wrench to keep in the toolbox. On the other hand,” he mused, “a tool with sensitivity, with the ability to adjust to context, is more useful than one without. There is a certain amount of tension in those conflicting ideals. How does your shoulder feel?”

“Like tiny insect eggs are hatching out inside my arm."

“Hm.” Emil tweaked the setting. “Unfortunately, your nerve endings need to be involved at this point. _La Sirena’s_ Emergency Holograms are in an unusual situation,” he added. “For most ships, they only come out in true emergencies, and do not unfold themselves for years at a time.” He looked up, saw Elnor’s frown, and pulled his hands back. _“La Sirena,”_ he said crisply, “Activate Emergency Auxiliary Hologram.”

There was a brief pause. Then, stepping out of the bright, bright light of the Sickbay’s overhead lamps, came another version of Cristobal Rios.

He was young, this version, and clean-shaven, with a neat jaw accenting the high cheekbones of his face. He wore black - trousers cut in straight lines reminiscent of a uniform, and a zipped-up black jacket that was both informal and… too neat. Though he looked straight at Elnor there was something unfocussed about it - he blinked, shifted his stance slightly, shifted back, breathed, blinked. “Please state the nature of the ship’s emergency,” he said, smiling.

“How are you feeling, today?” Emil asked dryly.

The Hologram smiled. “All systems are nominal,” he answered. “Please state the nature of the ship’s emergency. He blinked, shifted his stance slightly, shifted back, breathed, blinked.

“Put it away!” Elnor hissed, chills running along his shoulders.

The Auxiliary Hologram vanished.

“I am sorry,” the Medical Hologram said quietly. “I did not mean to alarm you.”

“Don’t be,” Elnor answered, as quiet. “You were showing me your truth.”

Emil smiled slightly. “Well then.” The muscle fibres in the Romulan’s arm were as glued together as they were ever going to be. He picked up a dermal regenerator, adjusted its settings to Romulan specs, and began to heal the outside of the wound.

“Emil…” Elnor said, hesitant. “My blade is _real.”_ He paused. “I thank it for its service every day, and the clothes I wear and the cup I drink from. I -” Yet he had banished the Hologram in an instant, appalled at the blank-eyed image, he -

“It’s an interesting view of the cosmos,” Emil mused. _“La Sirena’s_ first owner hailed from Japan, and thought similarly.” He frowned, looking at Elnor’s arm. It was so rare that one of his patients would sit still for this long, for more than an emergency patch job. He smiled to himself and went for another pass, to get the repair _perfect._

“And…” Elnor spoke slowly, tasting each word. “When I began to study the way of the _qalankhkai,_ a tool is what I became.”

“To die in Picard’s service,” Emil snapped, though his hands remained steady.

“No. To… illuminate… the truth of his cause.” Elnor hesitated. The grammar of Federation Standard did not serve well in this case. He tried again. “To… open the light?”

“So the death is just a by-product?” Emil asked sharply.

“Yes.”

“And you choose that.” Emil made a non-verbal sound, untranslatable to the Romulan ear.

“I… crave the moments when awareness and necessity are such that the _right_ way becomes… clear.” Elnor bit his lip. “When choice is unnecessary.”

 _“Phhht.”_ Elnor could not translate that, either, but then Emil softened. “Thank you for showing me your truth,” he said, putting his tools away.

Elnor inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I value the talk we had,” he answered. No, that phrase did not have the weight that it _should,_ Federation Standard was a continual frustration -

But Emil smiled, with his eyes as the Humans did. “Anytime,” he said. “Your observations are fascinating. Now - let’s get to work on your sore ankle.”

“Thank you.” Elnor shifted, rewrapping his jacket and lifting his feet onto the biobed. “Emil,” he asked suddenly. “Do you have a permit?”

The Emergency Medical Hologram smiled again, a glint in his eye reminiscent of Captain Rios when he was doing something outrageous-but-necessary.

“No,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Cover image courtesy of the amazingly talented [Regionalpancake.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regionalpancake/pseuds/Regionalpancake)
> 
> // Ishigaki is a city in Okinawa Prefecture, chosen because it’s relatively close to the Daystrom Institute.
> 
> // _that a definition of sentience is the capability of committing evil_ \- I totally lifted this from Jonathan Sims, co-creator of _The Magnus Archive._ I thought it was an interesting definition that opened up room for discussion.
> 
> // There are some vague references to a couple of Eastern philosophies, regarding the evolution of consciousness/souls, and the building of ethics. I don’t pretend to be any kind of expert. There is much of the Wuxia Hero about Elnor, and also, giving him views like this is an interesting contrast to the more general Romulan distaste for synthetic consciousness.


End file.
